


The Sleepy Hollow

by grey2510



Series: Misc SPN Works (<15k words) [23]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, F/F, F/M, Haunted Motel, Kinda, Time Travel, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 18:00:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14338002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/pseuds/grey2510
Summary: The Sleepy Hollow Motel seems like a normal divey motel, but there's something strange about it...





	The Sleepy Hollow

**Author's Note:**

> This is completely unbeta'd or edited by me and was written in a couple hours so, yeah...

"C'mon, Mary. It's just for the night," John said as he hefted his duffel onto his shoulder.

Mary raised an eyebrow, but followed him out of the Impala with her own bag. She was no stranger to terrible motels, even though her parents had tried to give her as stable a home life as they could—but they hadn't always lived in Lawrence, and not every hunt was a one day job and driving distance from the house.

That didn't mean that The Sleepy Hollow Motel didn't ping her instincts and make the hair on her arms stand up. There was just something about it...something _not normal_.

She caught up to John, who was whistling "Ramble On" as he crossed the parking lot. He slowed and held out his hand a little from his side. She caught it and smiled at him as they made their way to the motel office. The wind whipped at them, and Mary pressed in closer to John. It wasn't even really jacket weather, but there was just enough of a chill on the wind to remind them that summer was almost over.

"You take me to all the nicest places," she teased, looking significantly at the creepy mascot tacked up near the entrance. It was probably supposed to be a charming or whimsical decal, but the balding man with his old fashioned coat and completely horrible yellow and black checkered pants was just horrendous. She wondered what junkyard the owners had pulled it out of or if they'd had it specially commissioned.

John grinned and chuckled as he followed her gaze. "Yeah, ok, that's pretty awful. But, hey, unless they've got copies hanging up in the rooms…"

"I'll burn the place down." She wasn't even kidding.

John nodded seriously. "I'd help."

Now it was Mary's turn to grin. "Knew there was a reason I married you."

The older woman running the desk barely looked at them as they booked their room. John wrote their names in the register while Mary accepted the key, which unfortunately had a very worn, wooden copy of the mascot outside. By the man's feet was the number 12. The off-feeling she'd gotten when they'd first rolled into the parking lot still hadn't left and only intensified as she held the key, but it didn't feel _evil_. Every instinct in her told her to drop the key and—

"Check out's at 11 a.m.," the old woman rasped and Mary blinked up at her and nodded.

On the way out of the office, John bent closer to her so the old woman couldn't hear him, not that Mary thought she was listening anyway. "You see the register? Some guys put their names down as Page, Plant, and Bonham."

Mary snorted. "Tell me you didn't put us down as Sonny and Cher."

"I would make a good Cher, wouldn't I?" John pretended to push long hair back and batted his eyes.

"Now I'm reconsidering why I married you."

John wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Aw, c'mon, Sonny. Don't be like that."

They made their way to room 12 and it was just as Mary expected when she fit the key into the lock and let the door swing open on squeaky hinges: the floral bedspread probably used to have a white background but was now a dingy grey, the mauve carpet had worn footpaths in its shallow shag, the mint green curtains hung limply over smeary windows.

"Well," John said, surveying the room and dumping his bag on a rickety chair, "at least there's no creepy dude on the walls."

Mary walked over to the nightstand and held up a pad of paper with said creepy dude printed on it. "We can use this for kindling."

John crossed the room and took the paper from her, tossing it behind him before putting his hands on her hips. "How about we save arson for another trip, hm?"

Mary raised herself up on her toes and kissed him, a quick peck before settling back on her heels. "Promise?"

"Anything for you, Mary."

 

***

 

"Ugh, I feel like I just time traveled back to the 70s," Claire groaned as she eyed the ancient TV in the corner of the motel room. With a booted toe, she nudged the edge of the bed with its equally horrible comforter. "Probably hasn't been cleaned since then either."

Kaia smirked and dumped her backpack next to the bureau. "So it's no different than sleeping in your car."

"Ha ha."

Although Kaia did have a point. Next time she was back at Jody's, she should probably give her little car a good cleaning (if she was going to use up her saved quarters, it was gonna be for laundry, not for one of those car vacuum things). But she'd have to wait until Jody and Alex and Patience were all _not_ there because she didn't want to even think about the snarky comments she'd get. At least that'd still be better than if it was around the guys: Dean'd probably make her detail the whole thing and then lecture her for at least three hours on proper car maintenance. But he might fix that rattle that's been bugging her when she gets going over 70…

"Earth to Claire…"

Claire blinked, looking down at the key fob she was still holding with its ugly little carving that matched the also ugly sign outside the main office, except this had an 11 at his feet for their room number. For some reason, she felt a little drowsy, but she just chalked it up to a long drive. Tossing the keys on the nightstand—with a little pad of paper with the same stupid logo, _for fuck's sake did they even_ want _to stay in business?_ —she stepped towards Kaia, pushing a lock of curly, dark hair out of the other girl's eyes. "Sorry, babe. Just tired."

Kaia's gaze flicked down to her hands, her fingers compulsively chipping off the remains of her dark purple nail polish. "Not yet?"

"No, not yet," Claire assured her.

They'd found a way to keep Kaia from going to the Bad Place each night, but that didn't stop her from fearing that one night the wards and spells would fail. For Kaia, sleep wasn't a relief, and Claire could never fall asleep until she knew Kaia was dreaming safely.

Claire reached down and covered Kaia's hands with her own, stilling the nervous movements. "We've got at least fours of shitty TV to marathon before that."

The corners of Kaia's mouth lifted a little. "Admit it: you just like Dr. Piccolo."

"Didn't hear you complaining," Claire teased back.  

From next door in room 12, there was a deep rumble of a laugh, a girlish scream of delight, and what sounded all too much like the creaking of a bed. Kaia and Claire looked at each other.

Claire grabbed the remote. "Let's see how loud the volume goes on that TV, huh?"

 

***

 

Stepping out into the morning sun made Mary blink. There was a coffee shop across the street, and Mary knew they'd both need the caffeine before another day of driving. Especially since they hadn't gotten as much sleep as they probably should have—but that was the point of vacation, right? Outside the room, though, the weird feeling she's had about this place pricked her hunter's instincts again. After John had fallen asleep, she'd discreetly warded the room as best she could, and as soon as she'd done so, the pressure or tension or whatever it was had lessened considerably.

Next to the Impala was a maroon car that looked...odd. Certainly no car she'd ever seen before, but she couldn't say she'd paid too close attention to the newer models lately. It was hazy in the wispy morning fog, and so Mary just shook her head and tried to tell herself she was being silly. Nothing bad had happened and she was just paranoid because it'd been a few months since she'd slipped away for a hunt.

Lost in thought, she nearly walked into the girl coming out of the room next to hers. "Sorry, I—"

"'S fine," the girl replied, looping bright turquoise headphones around her neck. Blonde hair tumbled around her shoulders and she pulled it out from the headphone band as she gave Mary a smirk and a once over. "I mean, _groovy_."

Mary frowned, looking down at her outfit: a blue peasant blouse with yellow and red flowers, jeans, and platform clogs. It wasn't like she was dressed like "a dirty hippie", as her father would have said. Besides, the girl was hardly one to talk: ripped jeans that looked like they'd been painted on, biker boots, an oversized striped t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. She looked like she should be hanging off the back of the Harley of some burly guy with a handlebar moustache.

But that wasn't what really caught her attention. The girl was holding a rectangle that she plugged her headphones into and the...screen?...lit up. It looked like something out of _Star Trek_. From the headphones, which, Mary belatedly realized with a start, were sleaker than any she'd ever seen before, she could hear rock music before the girl pulled the headphones up over her ears, flashed her a peace sign, said, "Hope you had a fun night," and sauntered away.

Mary flushed, realizing that the girl probably had heard her and John last night. Whatever. She was on a mission for caffeine.

 

***

 

There was definitely something off about this place, Claire thought as she stepped out of their room and past the wardings they'd put up. Whatever it was, though, it couldn't get past their defenses, and they'd both ended up sleeping soundly—well, as soundly as they could after their neighbors finally stopped knocking boots. On any other day, she and Kaia might have tried to make it a competition, but they were honestly both so exhausted from the lamia hunt they'd just finished that cuddling while watching some downloaded episodes on Claire's laptop (because of course the TV was crap and there was no wifi...what even was this place) was all they could manage.

"Sorry, I—" A blonde woman pulled up abruptly in Claire's path. Claire hadn't even noticed her until they'd nearly collided.

"'S fine," she said automatically, before taking in the woman's outfit. "I mean, _groovy_."

The woman frowned and Claire noticed which room she'd just came out of. Smirking, she gave the woman a peace sign and congratulated her on last night's adventures, then walked away, going in the direction of the main office where she remembered there were a couple of vending machines. They weren't so low on funds that they couldn't afford a real meal, but she'd rather save the cash for later when they were on the road, just in case. A couple bags of Fritos and some Cokes would do for now. Breakfast of champions.

Like everything else in this place, the vending machine was at least twice her age. It was a big boxy thing with fake-wood paneling and just a keypad. She was about to feed a dollar bill in when she got a look at the snacks inside. Ok, old motel furniture, she could deal with. But old food? Not the way she was planning on going out. All the snacks were either kinds she didn't recognize or were in packaging so old, they looked like they belonged in a museum. Sure, there were Fritos in there, and they were probably good for forty years—that crap would probably survive another Apocalypse—but why risk it? Sighing, Claire repocketed her dollar. Sooner they could get out of here, the better.

On the way back to the room, she glanced over at her car for no reason other than because it was a familiar sight. There was a black car parked next to it...an Impala? Dean and Sam were here? Frowning, she shot off a text to Dean: _u in preston missouri?_

She rolled her eyes at his response a second later—she could practically see him ready to jump in the car and haul ass over here on a rescue mission: _No why u got a case? Can be there in 5 hrs_

 _Nah someone has same car as u_ , she typed out instead.

 _They got good taste but no cars as good as baby_ , he replied.

She wasn't even going to argue that one. He did have a cool car, even if she'd never say that to him out loud. This just also proved her point of never wanting to really get into a car discussion with him ever.

 

***

 

Coffee acquired, Mary slipped back into the room to find John awake and in the shower. Their things were packed and rested on the unmade bed. She smiled at that: at home, John was like he never left the Marines when it came to making a bed, and his only exception to that rule was in a motel, since he knew it was easier for maids to strip an unmade bed.

The shower turned off and John emerged a moment later, towel slung around his hips. "Coffee?" he said as he saw her. She nodded. He padded over to her, picked up his cup from the table, and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "You're the best."

They were all checked out and in the car fifteen minutes later, Mary behind the wheel. "Where d'ya think?"

"I'unno. North?"

Mary backed out of the parking space, careful not to hit the strange maroon car that was parked a little too close. "North it is." She was eager to get back on the highway; she loved these weekends, no destination in mind, just the two of them driving and see where the road took them.

She leaned an arm on the edge of the window as John turned on the radio, letting John Fogerty sing about ain't being no fortunate son. It was still hazy and foggy outside, but it would hopefully burn off soon. Lost in thought, she steered the car toward the exit of the parking lot, until—

"Mary?" John jerked forward as she slammed on the brakes.

She whipped her head to the left. "You see that?"

"What?" Leaning forward, John looked past Mary. "Oh. Someone has the same car as us. Jesus, Mary, you scared the shit out of me."

Mary frowned. "Sorry. Dunno why…"

"Don't worry about it. Just, easy on the brakes, ok? I just replaced them."

Mary smiled to herself. Give her an open road and brakes would never be the problem.

 

***

 

"You ok?" Kaia asked as they packed up the car again.

Claire nodded but bit her bottom lip. It was weird enough to see one car just like Dean and Sam's that wasn't Dean and Sam's, but it was even weirder to see _another_ one parked closer to the exit. And she knew it wasn't the same car: the one parked next to theirs had just been pulling out when they'd left their room. And that car had slammed on its brakes right next to the _other_ Impala before driving off again, like even they couldn't believe they'd run into a twin.

This whole place was just _weird_.

The old woman at the desk had accepted their key and its creepy little dude fob back without a word, and Claire had felt the need to rub her palm on her jeans as soon as she was free of it. Even Kaia had looked bothered by the bigger version of it by the door; daylight didn't make it look any better.

Whatever. They were out of here and she had no intention of coming back to the Sleepy Hollow Motel ever again.

 

***

 

"This is it?" Dean asked as they pulled into The Sleepy Hollow Motel. He sighed as he surveyed the place. Maybe when he was in his twenties, he wouldn't have minded this place, but his forty-five year-old back was already grumbling at the inevitable lumpy mattress and shitty night's sleep he was guaranteed to get.

Sam nodded. "I mean, it could just be a lot of local lore, but we've investigated less."

Cas peered at the building from the backseat. "I don't like it. It seems loose, temporally."

"Awesome." Because temporally loose motels were just buckets of fun. But it would explain why they had a vic in a hospital claiming she was from 1976 and all of her IDs matched that of a missing person from that year...and why she didn't look a day over thirty.

The old woman at the desk didn't even blink when Dean signed their register—who still used registers?—with their usual Zeppelin aliases and checked themselves into room 17. Dean frowned at the little figurine keychain that matched the battered sign outside the office, then tossed the keys to Cas.

"Something hinky 'bout this thing."

Cas nodded, turning it over in his hands. "This could be the source of its power."

"Source of _what's_ power?"

"I don't know."

Sam reached over and took the key from Cas' hands to examine it himself. "Salt and burn?"

Dean shook his head, looking around the very 1970s motel room. "I'unno. Every room's gotta have one of those, right? We'd have to gather 'em all up."

Sam nodded, then walked over to the table, probably to get out his laptop, but he paused at the windows. "Wait a minute...is that...Mom?"

Dean rushed to the window, Cas right behind him. "And...Dad?" Because there they were, clear as day, looking young and happy as they climbed out of _their_ Impala. "What the fuck…"

"It would seem time is overlapping here," Cas said solemnly and as though he was utterly unsurprised by this turn of events.

"You think they're ok?" Sam asked. "I mean, if something's going on here…"

Dean fought every instinct he had to rush to them, to hunt down whatever this was _pronto_. He rubbed his jaw. "I mean, they never mentioned it and they must've ended up ok, right? And Mom's a hunter, so…"

He looked to Cas for confirmation, and the angel nodded. "I think it's safe to assume that whatever happened in 1976 when your parents were here did not harm them."

Sam looked like he wasn't satisfied with that answer, and Dean had to agree, but storming down to their parents' motel room and announcing they were from the future and that Mary and John were in danger wasn't going to go over well. Hell, Sam and Dean'd done that before (in the future?) to their parents and it'd just been a massive shitshow, because that was just how fucked up their lives were.

Instead, they researched, with books because they couldn't get any internet here. Dean eventually got up and kicked open the green cooler, pulling out a beer. He stood by the window, staring at Baby who wasn't his Baby (yet)— _Christ, this was confusing_ —when he finally noticed the little maroon hatchback. Was that…?

"Dean?" Cas called after him as he wrenched open the door and jogged over to the hatchback.

Clothes and comic books and god-knows-what-else in the backseat, South Dakota plates, 2018 registration sticker, dreamcatcher hanging from the rearview mirror…

_Holy shit._

Sam and Cas were standing in the doorway of the motel room, both of them frowning at him as he returned.

"It's Claire's old car. Y'know, the one she and Kaia had?"

Sam blinked. "The one those vampires hijacked and totalled three years ago?"

"That's the one."

"Are you sure?" Cas wondered. "It was a fairly common car."

"Trust me, I spent enough time keeping that piece of crap running for her. That's her car. And it's from 2018."

"Shit." Sam brushed his hair back from his face.

"Yeah." Dean shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and they all filed back into the room. "So what do we do? Burning the whole place down seems like a good option…"

"Not while people are here, Dean."

"Well, yeah, Sam, _obviously_."

"Perhaps just the sign?" Cas was holding the keys again, dangling the fob before them. "The keys might all be connected to it."

Sam and Dean glanced at each other. "Worth a shot," Dean shrugged. "Better wait till morning, though."

"After check out?"

"Yeah. Just in case."

They warded the room that night, salt lines and all, and tried to sleep, but none of them quite managed it. Well, Cas didn't sleep, and eventually Dean gave up all pretense and joined him at the rickety little table. Sam huffed and got up a few minutes later, and they all ended up watching a few episodes of _M*A*S*H_ until the TV station signed off for the night (Jesus, Dean'd forgotten stations used to do that), and then it was listless games of poker until daylight crept over the trees outside.

The waiting game sucked, but eventually they watched as Mary and John and then Kaia and Claire climbed into their cars and drove away.

"Alright, let's roll," Dean said, clapping his hands once as he stood up.

The old woman at the front desk didn't do a damn thing as they ripped the stupid old man sign off the wall and hauled ass to a forgotten and mostly hidden corner of the parking lot. Dean wondered if she was even really human.

Sam tossed the sign on the ground, wiping his hands on his jeans as though he'd touched something slimy. Cas had gathered some branches from nearby for kindling, and Dean drenched it all with salt and lighter fluid.

"So long, fugly," he said as he dropped the matches.

None of them were sure if it was the chemicals in the paint or some sort of reaction with the magic, but the fire blazed bright green before fading to purple, leaving a charred wreck of the sign in moments.

"Did it work?" Dean blinked, dropping his arm from having thrown it up over his eyes at the blaze.

Sam hit his arm with the back of his hand and looked in the direction of the motel.

"It would appear so," Cas said as Dean spun around.

The motel was decaying and looked like it had been abandoned fifty years ago. Weedy grass poked up from broken pavement, the shutters were broken or missing, plywood covered many of the windows.

"Great, let's get the fuck out of here."

They climbed into _their_ Impala and tore out of there. Sam called the hospital as Dean drummed lightly to "Fortunate Son" on the steering wheel.

"Our vic disappeared," Sam reported.

"Think she went back to '76?"

"I hope so."

Dean nodded. "Hey, when we get back to the Bunker: movie night? Thinkin' _The Shining_."

"No."

"Absolutely not."

"Aw, c'mon. It's my man, Jack!"

"Still no."

Grinning, Dean just cranked up the radio.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Coldest Hits:  
> [Here was April's prompt and rules](http://spncoldesthits.tumblr.com/post/172939629984/spncoldesthits-the-sleepy-hollow-motel-april). 
> 
> So if you could hold off on the kudos and comments or just share them on some of my other fics, I'd appreciate it!
> 
> My other works (sorted by series for easier navigation):  
> [Grey's works](http://archiveofourown.org/users/grey2510/series)  
> Come visit me on Tumblr! @[grey2510](https://grey2510.tumblr.com/)


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